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helloalycia · 3 years

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worth the wait [two] // daisy johnson

summary: same as the first chapter – it was too long to post in one so this is the remainder of it!

"What do you think?"

I raised an eyebrow as I poked my head inside the van, glancing around at the cramped space that had stupidly been turned into a living space. There was also, weirdly enough, a computer in the corner which made absolutely no sense.

"I think I have no idea what I'm looking at," I admitted, before looking to an excited Skye beside me. "What is this?"

She bit her lip to contain her grin as she patted the van's door proudly. "This is my new rig."

I almost laughed. "You're kidding."

Her smile lessened. "I'm not."

Now I definitely laughed. "Skye, c'mon, be serious. Whose van is this?"

Her smile disappeared as she clenched her jaw with annoyance. "It's mine. Sorry it isn't fancy enough for you, your majesty."

When I realised she was serious, I lost my smile and looked between the van and her. "Skye, where the hell did you get a van? You can't even drive!"

Clearly holding in her anger, she began to push past me and slide the doors shut. "He said you wouldn't get it," she mumbled to herself, but I heard.

"He?" I questioned with raised eyebrows. "Who the hell is he?"

"Miles," she snapped, stopping moving and looking to me. "Miles is the one who got me the van. He said it was a bad idea to show you and clearly he was right, Y/N. You took one look at it and laughed. He was right."

I smiled tightly, trying not to get worked up at the mention of Skye's new friend. She'd befriended this 'Miles' guy within the past few months and wouldn't stop meeting with him and his friends. He was in the grade above us, but just like her, he'd skip class and do God knows what.

Ever since she'd been hanging around them, she'd been standoffish and distant. She wouldn't contact me as much when she ran away, and she'd been skipping school more often than usual. They were clearly a bad influence on her, but she reassured me she was in control of her own life and knew what she was doing. Being the idiot I am, I fell for her pretty smile and convincing eyes, but this was getting too far now.

"No offence, Skye, but I wouldn't start listening to a guy who can't even make it to class on time," I said to her with a hint of annoyance. "Why do you need a van anyway?"

"Why not?" she countered with her arms crossed. "I thought you'd be happy that I'm finally taking responsibility. Growing up."

My expression softened. "I've never once said that you had to do either of those things."

"You don't need to say it," she mumbled, looking down at her shoes with a frown. "I know you think it. Everyone does."

I stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder and finding her eyes with mine. "Where is this coming from? Skye, I have never thought that. All I've ever wanted for you is to be safe and happy. I'm just worried."

She shrugged me off. "Well, now you don't need to be. I've got this."

"You're seventeen, you should be in school studying, not staying in a van," I said tiredly. "You've been missing so much. How are you gonna graduate?"

She avoided my eyes. "That's another thing... I've been thinking and, well, I don't think I want that."

I widened my eyes with disbelief. "What?"

Still avoiding my eyes, she continued, "I don't think I want to graduate."

I was too surprised to find words so quickly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"How can you not want to graduate?!" I asked suddenly, finding my words. "It's what you do! It's what we all do!"

She met my eyes with apologetic ones. "It's what you do, Y/N. I don't want to be at a place that makes me feel like shit. I can't keep pretending I fit in when I don't."

"This isn't you," I told her sternly. "We were supposed to graduate together. You're not stupid, Skye. I can help you study. You can't just give up."

"I'm not," she said with certainty. "I finally know what I'm doing. That's all."

I squeezed my fists together to contain my frustration. "And what's that?"

"The Rising Tide–"

"For fuck's sake!" I cut her off, before hitting the van door with frustration.

"Miles has taught me a lot!" she defended. "They do a lot of good, Y/N! I just want to be apart of something bigger. Something that can help me help others. And something that can help me find my family. My real family."

I clenched my jaw, knowing I was too late in convincing her otherwise. Whatever Miles and the others had told her about their stupid hacking group had worked – she was dropping out of high school and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

"You're gonna be going to university and we both know I can't afford it," she said gently. "We couldn't stay together forever, Y/N. And my foster family definitely don't care what happens to me. I don't fit in anywhere."

I looked to her with glassy eyes. "You fit in with me. You always have."

She pursed her lips as she stayed quiet.

"I'm sorry I didn't make that clear enough," I added bitterly.

"That's not it and you know it," she muttered, shaking her head. "I have to do this. I have to figure myself out. Alone."

I felt stupid for letting her do everything she did leading up to this point. If I had just tried a little harder, maybe things could have been different.

"You're not alone though, are you?" I asked rhetorically. "You've got your new pals at the Rising Tide. It's their damn fault you're doing all this."

"They're not as bad as you think!"

"You've changed because of them!" I argued back. "They created a barrier between you and I. It's because of them that you've... that you've..."

"What?" she snapped, glaring at me. "That I'm finally thinking for myself?!"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and straightened up. "Forget it, just– forget it. I've got a midterm to study for."

She snickered harshly. "Of course. Don't want me slowing you down."

I stayed quiet and turned around to leave. I couldn't see past my anger as I left her with her stupid van.

Of course, the two of us had been friends for a lot longer than that silly argument, so I was quick to realise how much I actually cared about her and her life, and wanted to apologise for how harsh and unsupportive I sounded.

The next day after school, I decided to head over to her foster family's place to hopefully talk to her. I'd had enough time to think about it and knew I was a lot more levelheaded now that I'd had some space.

I knocked on the front door and waited before an older blonde woman answered. I recognised her as Skye's foster mum, Sally.

"Hi, Mrs Collins," I greeted with a smile. "I'm looking for–”

"Mary doesn't live here anymore," Sally cut me off instantly, surprising me.

I had almost forgotten that Skye's foster family knew her as the name she was given by her orphanage – Mary Sue Poots.

"She doesn't?" I asked with confusion. "But I thought–"

"Goodbye, Miss Y/L/N," Sally interrupted, before slamming the door in my face.

I blinked with confusion before turning around and walking down the steps. It had been a while since I last visited Skye at home. In fact, she made sure I never visited her at home. I guess now I knew why. But then where the hell was she living?

As I walked around the neighbourhood trying to think about where Skye could be, I saw a familiar van parked up on the side of the street and put the pieces together.

Guiltily, I approached the van and sucked up a deep breath before knocking on the side. It didn't take long for the door to slide open and reveal Skye herself.

"Hey," I said quietly, noticing her surprised expression. "Can we talk?"

She licked her lips nervously and nodded, before moving to the side to let me in. I climbed inside and watched as she shut the door before settling on the seat in front of me. I looked around and realised the little details I hadn't noticed yesterday. The little things that made this place Skye's and nobody else's.

"I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have any," she joked to lighten the mood, and I couldn't help but crack a small smile.

I breathed out before meeting her eyes. "Skye, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have reacted like that. If I had known that this was your home, I–"

"You didn't know," she said, shaking her head with embarrassment. "I didn't want you to know. It's my fault."

I pursed my lips, watching as she looked away with pink cheeks. It hurt me to know that she was embarrassed when I didn't care about any of this, I just cared about her.

"I want you to know that I respect your decision to join the Rising Tide," I said gently, making her look up. "If it's what you want, you should go for it."

"It is," she said with certainty.

I chewed on the inside of my mouth before asking, "Is there no way you can finish high school though? Graduate with me?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to, Y/N."

"But that's the bare minimum," I pleaded. "Hacking isn't a lifestyle. You need to work, too, and I can promise you that most places won't look to hire a high school dropout."

She leaned back in her seat and shrugged nervously. "Miles isn't graduating either. And he's got some friends who haven't graduated. They're all doing fine."

I looked down and pinched the bridge of my nose to contain my frustration. I promised myself I wouldn't argue with her, but the mention of her other friends was like a trigger.

"What now?" she asked with annoyance, realising I was annoyed. "You clearly have something to say about them."

"It doesn't matter," I said, biting my tongue.

"Sure it doesn't," she played along.

"It doesn't," I agreed.

"Yeah, and the Hulk isn't bright green," she said sarcastically.

I looked up and glared at her. She stared back challengingly, practically daring me to speak. So, I did.

"Your new hacker friends are the reason you're making these choices," I told her straight. "They're the reason you're making a huge mistake. The reason you're dropping out. And for what? So you can hack like them?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know you look down on us, but we're more than that."

"Skye, I don't give a shit about them!" I shouted without meaning to. "I only care about you!"

"Then stop talking crap about my friends!" she returned angrily.

"Why do you care about them so much?!"

"They gave me a place to stay when I had nowhere! They made me feel like I belonged!"

I frowned, anger replacing with hurt. "I always offered you a place to stay. I only ever wanted you to be safe. You never needed to be different with me. You belonged. Always."

She swallowed hard and looked away from me ashamedly. "Well it doesn't matter anymore. I'm leaving."

I breathed out deeply. "School? Our town? Leaving what?"

"All of it," she said quietly. "I don't expect you to understand."

I looked down to my fumbling hands, a tear slipping from my eye. I had never felt so angry at someone before in my life. She was treating me like I was a stranger, as if I wasn't somebody who knew her inside out. She was treating me like she treated everyone else except her new friends. And I couldn't deal with it anymore.

"Fine," I said, before moving to open the door. I jumped out her van and didn't spare her a glance as I said, "Have fun with the rest of your life. Sorry I didn't care enough."

She didn't say anything and I didn't expect her to. With a broken heart and headache, I left and didn't bother turning back.

—

"What do you mean she's run away?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Mr Lock said apologetically. "Her foster family got the note this morning. They're doing what they can to find her. She always turns up, you know that."

I knew her family didn't care if she was gone or not, so I knew Skye definitely wouldn't be found. Unlike usual, Skye hadn't contacted me before leaving, so something told me she wouldn't be turning up.

Our argument was over a week ago and I hadn't seen her since. It had been eating away at me the way we'd left things, but I couldn't find it in myself to face her. I had no idea what to say anyway. And I wasn't sure when she was planning on leaving, so I didn't think it was important right now. Clearly, I was wrong.

"I just thought you should know," Mr Lock said with a nod. "The police will come by soon to get a statement from you."

As usual. Except this time, I actually had no idea where she was.

I nodded, my mouth going dry. "Thank you... can I go now?"

He nodded hesitantly. "Of course."

I left his office and headed straight outside behind the bleachers where nobody could hear or see me. The first thing I did was try to ring Skye, but there was no answer and no way to leave a voicemail. I tried several times, hoping she'd pick up, but she didn't. And that's when I remembered the burner phone.

Immediately pulling it out, I turned it on and saw the message from her appear on my screen. I was quick to open it, my heart racing like it did every time she ran away. I knew she wasn't coming back this time though.

Hey, Y/N. I know you probably hate me, but I felt like I owed you this. I said I was leaving and I have. I can't tell you where. And I'm not good at goodbyes. I've had too many of them and I couldn't bring myself to say it to you. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I never wanted to, but I guess some things are inevitable, huh? I've managed to do it all my life, this isn't any different. I'm just sorry if I hurt you in the process. Anyway, this is pretty long and I don't even know if you read it, but yeah. I'm sorry. I wish things could have been different.

The text ended there and I found myself rereading it to myself over and over, her words imprinted in my mind. I knew we'd argued and exchanged hurtful words, but I never in a million years thought she'd leave without saying goodbye. I thought I meant more to her than this. But no. I was just another foster family she ran away from. And I wasn't so sure I'd see her again.

#daisy johnson #daisy johnson x reader #chloe bennet #marvel imagine #marvel #agents of shield imagine #agents of shield #daisy johnson imagine #mcu #agent skye

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poeedamerons · 4 years

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busco en la memoria una señal (diga que no me olvidaras)

Day 1 of 9-1-1 Lone Star Week — Read it on A03

Carlos parter, Officer Parish is the one to tell him all about his accident, how a branch fell right off a tree onto his head. Lucky for him, the branch was not big enough to cause too much damage, other than a mild concussion.

But that did not stop him from going out like a light as soon as it hit his head, and Carlos was rushed to the ER by the EMT team on site. It didn’t take him long to wake up, but the medical staff fussed all over him and kept him on probation despite him looking no worse for the wear.

Carlos doesn't really mind being looked over and understands the seriousness of his injury, but staying on a hospital bed when he feels mostly fine — even if his head throbbed a little — is something Carlos absolutely loathes.

Then again, according to Parish, Michelle was in one of her moods after Carlos got hit and he is not at all eager to deal with that anytime soon, so maybe lingering on a hospital bed, far from her reach for time being didn’t sound entirely unpleasant.

It turns out that Carlos did, in fact, have some side effects from the blow. What clued them all in was the arrival of a certain firefighter, that crossed the threshold of the room looking dishevelled, out of breath, eyes brimming with concern.

At first, the arrival of the stranger meant nothing to Carlos, he only took a quick glance at said man entering the room before looking back at the doctor in front of his bed, but grew more wary as the stranger approached his bedside and started asking a million questions in one breath.

Carlos cocked his head in confusion and wonder of who the good looking stranger might be and why he was talking to him, but the look on his face was the cue the doctor needed to ask if he knew the man in question.

Inexplicably, Carlos is hesitant in giving his answer - oddly afraid of hurting the stranger - but he lightly shakes his head and his brows draw together as he registers how his answer throws the other man’s countenance off. That’s not a look that Carlos wishes to see again, it tugs a knot in his heart and he has no idea why.

The doctors said the memory loss would be a temporary situation and Carlos certainly hoped they were right about that. It isn’t as if most of his life is suddenly gone from his memory. Carlos is certain he remembers his life, it’s just the gaps of recent months and things like TK’s — Carlos learns that is the name of the stranger — existence that is missing from his mind.

If asked about it Carlos would never be able to explain how or why he ends up in TK's care after he is discharged. No one even questions the man’s presence by his side. The medical staff defered to TK when talking about what precautions should be taken at home and Carlos was too flabbergasted to speak.

The drive home is uneventful and gives Carlos new opportunities to observe the other man.TK fills their time with clever and nonsensical talk that gets Carlos laughing, carefree all the way. He does notice the furtive glances TK throws in his direction and Carlos tries not to find it completely endearing, but that is a battle he lost before it even began.

As they pull into Carlos driveway, he can’t help but wonder about TK’s role in his life, because he is aware that TK did not ask for directions to his house, he drove them through the streets of Austin like it was a second nature to him, the path from the hospital to his house one that TK’s very familiar with. That is enough evidence in Carlos' judgment to suggest that TK is no mere acquaintance and that they have a deeper relationship than the few months they knew each other.

Carlos decides then that he will wait for the right moment when they are properly set up inside his house to ask TK more questions about himself because, ever the cop, Carlos is eager to start filling the missing puzzles in his mind and TK is a big one, without a doubt.

“Are you hungry?” TK asks him, a gentle smile adorning his face as they drop their stuff in the living room. “I could make you something to eat. I know hospital food isn’t up to your high standards.” TK lips curl conspiratorially, like that knowledge about Carlos amuses him more than anything else in the world.

Carlos can’t help but grin back. If TK knows that about him, he must know him pretty well. “Yes,” He calls back as he settles down on the couch, facing TK. “But I don’t remember how talented you are,” He teases the other man. “I might be setting myself up to eat something even worse than hospital food.”

“You injure me, sir!” TK replies in mock insult, clutching a hand over his heart. Carlos chuckles at TK’s theatrics.

“I will have you know that while I might not make tamales to die for, but I'm a pretty decent cook.” TK says but his eyes sparkle with delight over their little exchange.

Carlos amusement dies on his lips, staring at TK, eyes wide and mouth open in surprise.

“What?” TK asks, dumbfounded at the sudden change in Carlos' expression.

“Have I…” Carlos' voice trembles, feeling choked up. “Have I made you tamales before?” Carlos' heart is beating fast, like it wants to be free from it’s cage. He can feel the blood rushing through his veins, warmth spreading all over him.

“Yes, many times,” TK hesitates, eyes scanning Carlos' face for any indication of what just happened. “Is there something wrong, Carlos?” TK asks weakly, his early cheery mood suddenly gone.

“No, no…” Carlos licks his dried lips. “Nothing is wrong.” Carlos' murmurs. “I would love to see how decent you are at cooking, especially when you set the bar so low for yourself as an improvement from hospital food.” He tries to switch back to their earlier mood, hoping TK won’t question it further.

“You got it, officer.” TK throws him a wink and swings back to man the kitchen.

It all makes sense to Carlos now. He and TK are dating, and that is why no one even batted an eye when TK showed up and kept Carlos company. Austin Memorial is one of their to go places, so the staff is familiar with a good number of the first responders that constantly show up with some occupational hazard. Since Carlos did not recognize TK, they must have decided not to overwhelm him with the fact that he didn’t remember who his own boyfriend was.

TK is really something special for handling it all like a champ, not saying a word and not making a move to make him feel uncomfortable. He had been nothing but thoughtful and tender since they left the hospital. No wonder he made his marriage tamales, not once but several times.

Carlos smiles thinking that he did pick a good one, and really easy on the eyes as well. TK was a hunk of a man.

When his mother taught him and his sisters how to make her famous tamales, she made them promise that they wouldn’t make it for anyone but for the person they wanted to marry, their other half. Carlos and his sisters, being die hard romantics, took their promise to heart. So far Valentina and Sofía had only cooked their mami’s marriage tamales for their now husbands.

If Carlos made them for TK, it can only mean one thing: he’s hopelessly in love. Carlos' heart fills with warmth and joy for having found his other half in TK. His heart swells remembering how delighted TK's voice sounded when he talked about Carlos tamales and is sure an affectionate look adorns his face.

Carlos marvels as TK cooks them dinner and there’s no denying the man is used to the place. He knows where Carlos keeps everything. He doesn't’ waver for a moment, looking absolutely comfortable in Carlos' kitchen, like that is a natural occurrence…. and Carlos figures it is.

He figures they are not yet on the ‘living together’ stage yet, but to Carlos it looks like it’s just a matter of time. A smile tugs at the corner of Carlos' lips and he tries to fight it, certain it will become a shit eating grin of triumph.

TK was his boyfriend for sure.

“So, how long have we been together?” Carlos breaths, eager to know more about them.

TK looks up, quirking his eyebrows. “Together?”

Carlos rolls his eyes indulgently before repeating his question. “How long have we been dating?”

“We are not together.” TK states, a little strained, his face blank.

“Did we break it off?” Carlos pouts, confused. If they broke it off then why did TK show up in the hospital looking like he had run a marathon to get there? Why did he look so worried? Were they still on a friendly enough basis that TK would still worry for his well being?

“No, I mean…” TK pauses, rubbing his forehead before continuing. “We are kind of hooking up?” He shrugs his shoulders.

Oh. Carlos is speechless and feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. If he made TK tamales and they are just ‘hooking up’, then Carlos must be more invested than TK. Carlos knows his heart just broke a little in that moment, and he wants to punch himself for being so stupid and setting himself up for a heartbreak. TK isn’t in love with him.

He wants to throw up just thinking that this might be how TK acts around everyone and it's not just something special for him. He just can't believe he would break his promise over someone that considers him a… booty call.

It just doesn't add up.

God, his mami would be so disappointed in him, actually, she wouldn’t, she would be sad, just like he is. He still doesn't remember anything about his and TK’s relationship — if one can call it that — but he feels the loss keenly.

“Why do you ask that?” TK’s voice takes Carlos from his internal struggle.

Carlos ponders at how he should proceed forward with this conversation. TK has the upper hand of knowing their story, for a lack of better word, and Carlos would be shooting in the dark all through it… but isn’t lack of communication what apparently led them to this moment? Because TK does appear to be clueless about the meaning of the tamales and even about how deep Carlos' feelings were running before the accident earlier today. He decides on saying the truth, better clear any misunderstanding than playing whatever game it is that they got themselves into.

“TK..” Carlos' clears his throat. “I don’t remember you or us.” He states matter of factly, hoping TK would not be hurt by it. “So, I don’t understand the reasons behind a lot of things I’ve witnessed today.” Carlos takes a deep breath, hoping for strength, but he just feels defeated.

“But when you said I had made you those tamales… they have meaning for me, for my family.” He chances a glance up and visibly sees TK flinching. “My mami taught me and my sisters how to make it and they are meant for a special person in our lives,” He didn’t need to tell TK the whole marriage part, did he? It was all very serious already. “A really special person.” Carlos catches TK’s eyes in hope that he can convey through them his true meaning, and by how TK’s eyes widen, he is sure he understood it.

“So I just...thought that meant we were together.” Carlos swallows dry and avoids TK’s stare. “I’ve never cooked them before.” He admits it hollowly. Carlos knows that this is it, this is how things with TK will go south. He doesn't know how he knows it ,he just has a gut feeling.

Carlos doesn't dare to steal a look at where TK is standing, afraid of what he might see, but he just can’t bring himself to fill in the awkward silence that took over the room. He glues his eyes to the upholstery as he tried to blink away the tears.

“I…” Carlos hears TK’s breathing grow uneven. “I can’t, Carlos. This… this is all too much.”

Against his better judgment, Carlos peeks at TK and he looks...agitated. His pupils dilated, his hands fumbling with the sleeves of his shirt and his teeth gnaws at the loose skin on his lips. Carlos does not know what to say, he can hardly process TK’s erratic behavior.

TK starts pacing between the small space from the kitchen to the living room. “This is not what I signed up for, not what we agreed..” TK blurts in accusation and Carlos flinches.

“You know —” TK stops mid sentence, because before the accident Carlos did know, the one in front of him now has no idea whatsoever. “I’m just not good with relationships and I’ve told you before. You knew this, Carlos.” TK emphasis feels like a sucker punch. “I’ve told you so many times how hard this is all for me, plus the move and my dad—” TK’s voice turns into a whine, running his fingers through his hair while pacing back and forth, practically caving a hole through the ground floor. “I just can’t believe you would not get that.” TK sighs.

Carlos wants to say something, but what? God, this is messed up and Carlos can’t help but feel a little guilty for TK’s reaction. While one can’t fight how their feelings develop, if TK told him about his struggles, keeping the charade in hopes that TK would eventually keep up was not his brightest moment; but Carlos knew himself. He wears his heart on his sleeve. Even if TK was unaware of the importance behind the tamales, Carlos is very affectionate and TK would have to be really emotionally obtuse not to realise the magnitude of Carlos feelings.

They were both idiots.

“Honestly, Carlos.” TK tsked, irritated. “You always knew and to do this...I’m sorry, but I’m gonna go.” TK reaches for his jacket, wallet and keys on the table and Carlos just watches him. “I will call Michelle and ask if she can check on you, I’m just not in the mood right now.”

Before Carlos can even put a word in, TK is pulling the door close with a loud thud that makes Carlos flinch a little. It would be a lie if he said that the fact that TK didn’t look at him even once doesn't sting.

------------------------------------------

The knock on his front door startles him. Carlos isn't waiting for any visitors and it was past ten o’clock and he frowns, thinking who could be at this hour. Looking through the peephole, Carlos leans his forehead on the door and sighs heavily.

A part of him wants to pretend he did not listen to the knock on his door, but his lights are on and TK probably saw that as he walked through the front yard, so TK would know he was being ignored. Which all things considered wouldn't be all bad.

But the other side of him wants to open the door and take whatever TK throws against him once more. Carlos knew there was never really a doubt on what he was going to do.

"Hey," TK greets him awkwardly. "I hope I’m not bothering you this late". TK bites his lips and Carlos can't help but trace the movement.

"I was just about head out to bed," Carlos replies, restrained. He really has no idea what TK is doing on his front door at this hour, after everything, but he could really use the distance. Plus he was too emotionally tired to have this conversation.

“I…” TK's voice comes out broken. He sighs, looks at the ground and bites his upper lip, uncertain. Carlos really can’t with this man right now.

“Listen,” TK stars over, this time his voice firm and he looks Carlos straight in his eyes. “I know you are upset. You have the right to be, but can I please come in and talk to you?” TK pleads. “I swear I will say what I have to say and after that I will keep my distance, okay?”

Carlos really wants to say no. He is too caught up in his emotions right now and he needs a break. Having TK this close would be the exact opposite of that, but if he learned something over the last two days — as if by magic, several memories were just there, like they never left him in the first place — it is that Carlos is weak for TK Strand.

It's a feeling that Carlos can’t explain, but TK means so much to him — TK means everything to him. He is under his skin and etched on his heart — and even if he isn’t in the mental state for this, he knows he will say ‘yes’ because Carlos is weak and greedy for TK. That is why Carlos makes TK tamales, even if there is no chance of reciprocity. He’s hopelessly in love and doomed to feel it fiercely.

“Sure,” Carlos answers and shrugs. “Come in.” He makes way for TK to come in and closes the door behind them. Carlos slowly makes his way towards the center of the living area, unsure if he should sit somewhere or if he should just stand his ground.

TK isn’t having a better time, Carlos notices, as he as well stands awkwardly in the middle of his living area, looking around him, a small container tucked in one of his hands.

“Carlos,” TK begins. “I know my response was a bit reluctant the other day.”

Carlos snorts at that.

“Okay, I freaked out and it was uncalled for.” Carlos did hate how TK could easily make him smile, even in a moment like this. “I shouldn’t have panicked like that, specially when you had just gotten out of the hospital and were still trying to figure things out, but I was taken back with everything.” TK has the decency to look contrite.

Carlos is proud of holding TK’s apologetic glance, but face blank, without uttering a word in reply, daring the other to keep going or leave if he couldn’t do this.

“I really should have been more rational, and known you didn’t remember my track record with relationships that day… and I—” TK’s voice falters and closes his eyes for a moment. “I messed up.” Carlos can see TK is twisting his foot on the ground and has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep the smile off his face at TK’s childish mannerism. “I just… like you a lot. And I’m so fucked up.” TK swallows the burning feeling on his throat. “I still have no idea what you see in me. Like you could have anyone, you are amazing, yet your eyes are always on me,” TK’s eyes fill with tears, but Carlos could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down several times before he got out the words. “And I feel so special and loved, but I also feel like running before you look too long and start seeing the cracks.” TK laughs bitterly, tears now flowing freely.

Carlos has to fight the urge of comforting TK. All he really wants is to wrap him in a hug and whisper sweet nothings into his ear, washing his insecurities away; but he stands his ground. If TK wants him, he will have to say the words. Carlos is done playing games.

“And when you do, it will all be over.” TK whispers, tugging his sleeves over his tearful cheeks. If the house hadn’t been in complete silence, Carlos fears he might not have listened. “These past two days, I couldn't stop thinking about you and what you told me.” He sniffs. “No one has ever made me feel as special as you, Carlos. You made those tamales for me even though I'm a trainwreck.” TK bites back a sob and Carlos digs his nails into the palms of his hands, hanging by the last thread of his willpower. Carlos is positive his face is twisted with pain. “And that’s all I ever wanted: to be loved and cherished, like you’ve done for me from day one.” TK's eyes are shining with tears but he locks them with Carlos' anguished ones. “Even If I tried not to, I couldn’t help but fall in love with you, Carlos.”

Carlos' heart was ringing on his ears. This was not the “It’s-not-you-it’s-me” speech he was expecting when he opened the door. TK just admitted to being in love with him and Carlos froze, overcome with joy and disbelief. He wanted to finally allow himself to reach for TK, but he was greedy when it came to TK Strand and now he wants it all.

TK walks closer to where Carlos is standing in small, tentative steps. “You told me that in your family when you find your special someone, you cook them tamales.” TK gives him a small smile as he closes the gap between them. “I made these for you.” TK says as he opens the lid of the container in his hands. Carlos peers down at the content of the box and almost chokes. He whips his head up, eyes meeting TK longing ones.

Tamales.

TK made him tamales.

"TK…" Carlos whispers, overwhelmed.

“I called your mother and asked her for the recipe.” Carlos' eyes widened at TK’s revelation. TK bites his bottom lip and breaks their stare. “I’m sorry,” Carlos can hear the anxiety in TK’s voice. “I know I crossed a line, I mea—”. Carlos interrupts TK, lunging in for a kiss, wrapping his free arm around TK’s neck. As soon as their lips connect TK moans and Carlos can't help but surge forward, in an effort to deepen their kiss and grind their hips closer.

He missed kissing TK. The taste of his lips is always enough to drive Carlos up through the walls. They broke their kiss so they could breathe, but Carlos quickly chased TK’s lips again, trying to nip TK’s swollen pink lips and TK couldn’t help but laugh at Carlos' antics.

Carlos' heart is bursting with joy. The sound of TK’s laugh echoes like sweet music to his ears. He couldn’t believe TK cooked him his family’s marriage tamales. God, TK faced his mami without his backup just so he could get the recipe. He isn’t the possessive type, but there was not a chance in hell Carlos is ever letting TK go now. He is keeping him.

TK eventually allows Carlos to nip his lips playfully, smiling at each other like fools in love. “Does that mean you like it?” TK asks, looking dazed and Carlos leans in and rubs their noses together in eskimo kisses. He knows TK will never admit that he loves when Carlos does that.

“I can’t believe you, TK.” Carlos' voice is in awe. “I can’t believe you called my mother.”

“You’re not upset?” TK asks against Carlos lips, still unconvinced.

Carlos rubs their noses gently one more before going for a quick peck. “No,” Carlos replies cheerily, a huge smile on his face. “But now you are stuck with me, buddy, because not only have you sealed the deal with the tamales, but Carlota Reyes will never let me live this down and you are going to suffer with me for the rest of your life since it’s all your fault.”

TK answers him with the most delicious peal of laughter and Carlos takes a step back to place the container over his coffee table. He reaches for TK, wrapping his arms around his waist and noising TK’s neck. Carlos grins when he hears TK’s groan.

“Your mother is really something,” TK tells him after a while and Carlos is glad that he can hear the fondness in his voice. “You know, she only gave me the recipe after I sent her a selfie and I quote: ‘I’m only doing this because I want my grandbabies to have green eyes”.

Carlos rolls his head back with laughter. That sounds exactly like his mami.

“Carlota Reyes is a sucker for green eyes. Better not disappoint her then, hun?” Carlos asks.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” TK answers, leaning in for a kiss before teasing, “Bet our kid will have her wrapped around their tiny little fingers, hun?” TK’s green eyes sparkle with mischief and Carlos can’t help but commiserate with his mami because he is already wrapped around TK Strand's fingers and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#911 lone star fic #911lonestarweek #911lsweek #tarlos fic #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #my writing

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chocolatemillkk · 6 years

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Call me Out (CM)

"Soo what are we doing again?" I ask for the fifth time, hugging my arms to my chest. It was an unusually cool evening in LA and although my bottom half was covered appropriately in a pair of jeans, I had on only a tube top leaving my bare arms covered in goosebumps.

"Well Rick forgot his ID and so did Omar and Anth's still on the damn phone." My friend sighs. "So I don't know!"

"Just go to the club without us!" Rick says for the millionth time and I seriously wonder why we didn't do just that. "We'll come next time."

"The whole point was to go together since we've all finally got fake IDs." Omar pouts. "They can go if they want. But-"

"We could go to one of those all-age clubs-"

"No! No, those suck-"

"I have an idea." My friends all pause at the new voice. It was Anth's friend Conor who he introduced us to earlier that evening. We'd all said hello and included him in the group without a question even though he was obviously British and not from around here. Which we all secretly thought was really cool...but were just too LA to admit. But Conor hadn't gone unnoticed for me-catching my eye and sending my heart racing. Not only because he had the same accent as my favourite movie ever made at the time (Bridget Jone's Diary) but he was cute in a way that wasn't intimidating. "Those of us with ID can get the beer and we can find some place to hang out." Conor licks his lips. "We can still make the most of the night that way."

All eyes are on the group newbie until Omar speaks up, obviously relieved from his fomo: "You're genius. Let's do that."

"Okay, my basement's empty we can head there. So how about Y/N goes and..." Malia stares at our newcomer for an uncomfortable second as she blanks on his name.

"Conor." I cut in. "Conor and I will go."

At the sound of his name, Conor looks up sharply at who said it. I feel myself blushing clumsily as I try not to look as excited as I felt but I couldn't help it! I would finally get some time alone to get to know my sudden new crush.

Since the closest liquor store was right up the street, Conor and I head off and tell the gang we would meet them at Malia's. As we walk, I'm nervous. I fold my arms into myself, and then unfold them, and fold them again before Conor offers his leather jacket.

"Oh I'm fine," I say politely. Damn. I wasn't fine in any way. But I couldn't just accept his-

"No take it. I'm warm." Conor begins stripping the jacket off before I could politely decline again. "I've got a jumper underneath anyway."

"A jumper?" I ask, looking at the sweatshirt he wore underneath and back up at his face.

"Yeah," he picks the fabric up to show me. "A jumper?"

I take the jacket from him and eagerly drape it over my shoulders; its leftover warmth blankets my body. "Is that like, a British thing?" I ask, intrigued and still staring at him, forgetting we should be continuing our walk instead of standing under the street lamp.

"I don't know...I guess?" Conor seems just as nervous as me as he shoves his hands into his pocket. I tug the jacket closer around my body which catches his attention, his eyes roaming all over me. I sense a shift in him, almost unnoticeable except in the way that he finally meets my gaze.

"You've got really nice eyes," he says and then immediately looks away.

"Thanks," I laugh nervously. "You've got a really toasty jacket."

He looks back up, his cheeks a slight pink under the sodium lights, and his tensed face melts into a smile that warms me up from the inside. He has a playful glint as he tugs at the jacket's lapel, "I'm a hot guy-didn't I already say?"

He was hot. But I don't stroke his ego. I turn away instead, continuing again on our trek to the store, calling out behind me. "If I remember correctly the only thing you said was you were warm!"

He laug loudly into the night and the ice between us. We begin talking and asking about the other, greedily tearing up the rare time alone, wanting to know each other as well as we could before we had to return to our group. By the time we get into the liquor store I've told him about growing up in LA, how I hated school, and how my brother drove me crazy and he's told me about the town he's from, his younger brother and sister, and why he was in LA--to work on music. And I was impressed, he was only my age.

"So are you any good?" I ask him as we track down the aisle with the cheaper beer. We're the only ones inside so we try not to draw too much attention.

"No. Not yet," he laughs and his face does the squinty thing I'd started to find adorable. I stare at him as he leans down and picks up two cases.

"Well will you let me hear it? When it is good?" I ask seriously.

He straightens up and turns to me, nodding his head vigorously. "Yeah," he answers, his voice suddenly serious. "I will."

Two Years Later: "I've heard it then," I'm on the phone with Conor as I look out the taxi window into the crowds of tourists. I was on my way to my boyfriend's place and the radio surprised me with a familiar voice. "Your song just came on the radio and I've finally heard it!"

"I was on the radio?" Conor asks from the other side of the world. I wished he was here to hear it with me so I could see his reaction myself. "You heard me in LA?"

"I'm in a taxi," I say. "And I'd recognise your stupid voice anywhere."

"And?" Conor asks, not hiding his excitement at all.

"It's still not good-I told you to only show me when-"

"Shut up!" Conor shouts and I have to move the phone away slightly as his belly-laugh emenates from the phone. "You're a little shit!"

"No!" I insist. "You're shit!"

"Don't say that," Conor's humour is slowly leaking out of his voice and I decide I'd taken the joke far enough.

"It’s-as you would call it-bloody amazing! I was totally kidding. The song. Is. Amazing."

"Really?" Conor asks, his excitement apparent again.

"Yes!" I shout. "You should be so proud of yourself! Soon you'll be as big as Beiber!"

We go back and forth as he shies from the compliments and finally accepts them. We move onto the cliffnotes version of life updates before I reach my destination and tell him I had to go. This was the way it had been with Conor and I over the two years we'd known the other. After an intense first time hanging out, we'd eased up and stuck to the safe option of being good friends. The constant distance between us and the fact that we shared a mutual friend group, prevented us from hooking up-if things went south, it would be very awkward. Plus, we were both busy figuring out our own futures. Mine, currently, was going to school so I could get into acting.

But I still couldn't control my erratic heartbeat whenever I spotted Conor in LA. There was an undeniable attraction, made stronger with the easy chemistry we had. He had a pull on me none of my other crushes or boyfriends ever had. But after a few weeks every time, I had to let Conor go back home to London and as painful as it was each time, it would be made more painful if we were anything more than friends. So I simply chalked it up to a juvenile crush and forced myself onwards.

One Year Later: "Y/N..." Conor pulls his pants onto his hips and secures it with a belt. "I don't know what to-"

"It's fine," I laugh like I thought everything that had happened over the last 10 hours was all one big joke. But my hands shake under the covers and I have a hard time looking him in the eye.

I had turned 21 yesterday and my boyfriend dumped me the morning of because I was being too "clingy”. He was leaving in the afternoon, flying out across the country for some modelling jobs he'd landed and I was mildly upset he had to leave on my birthday. Meanwhile, Conor suprised me at my apartment, completely oblivious, with birthday champagne and a balloon he'd stuck a picture of his face on. It was his only free night because he had to fly out the next morning.

But he'd found me: mascara on my cheeks, crumpled pyjamas, and a fistful of tissues. He sat and listened so patiently before helping me clean up. Once I'd cried it out however, the inevitable happened. We popped the champagne, swore at my ex, drank the bottle between us, and then reached for each other. Because of loneliness or our long history, we ended up in bed. My bed. And I wish I hadn't drank so much so I could remember even half of it but as soon as I woke up I knew I fucked up. I was simultaneously heartbroken over my ex and absolutely gutted that my first time with Conor was under circumstances like this.

"You were comforting me. We're both adults now and we made an adult decision right? It's fine." I sit up, making sure the blankets were wrapped tight around my torso. Conor looks at me hesitantly, his hands dropping to the side and he looks just as gutted. We weren't supposed to let this happen. Not like this. We knew eventually we would sleep together with all the sexual tension we had between us-but never ever like this. This felt cheap...we could barely even remember it.

"So you're okay I have to go again?" Conor asks slowly.

"I'm fine. You have a life to go back to." I say more confidently than I felt-I didn't want to be clingy again. And what would I even say if I wasn't okay? It was a stupid question to ask. "And my shift starts in a couple hours anyway-acting doesn't pay the bills!"

Conor throws his shirt on before sitting beside me. He looks down at my hands clasped around the covers and then my collar where the pendant I always wore rests. He picks it up and rubs it like I usually did when I was nervous. It was hard to reconcile the person Conor put on in public to this gentler version of him in my bedroom. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I'll see you on the big screen soon enough."

"You'll only see me when I'm good enough," I give him a wry smile, calling him out. He drops the necklace, his hand curving around the back of my neck. For a split second I think he was maybe going to kiss me again but he kisses my forehead instead. I close my eyes, stretching the brief millisecond into an hour, or two, or five. I create some alternate timeline where I can do this all over, so that when Conor kisses my forehead it doesn't feel cheap with regret and stink of pity.

Fourteen Months Later: "It's nothing!" I pull my hand out of Malia's grip but she grabs my hand again.

"You call that a promise ring?" She asks skeptically of the diamond ring my boyfriend had gifted me yesterday evening.

"Promise ring?" Anth asks as he comes back with Conor who'd arrived late-a bad habit we'd all gotten used to. I try to stuff my hand back into my hoodie but Conor catches the light glinting off the diamond. I don't want to see his expression but I can't help but watch as it falls, a look of betrayal settling in. It wasn't my fault-not really. Conor and I kept up a false pretense of being friendly after the last time we saw each other but we unravelled quickly the longer we went without addressing it. How could we be the same when we suddenly carried so much baggage?

Our relationship suffered. Meanwhile, my boyfriend came back to LA on his knees begging for forgiveness. He had been stressed out about his shoots and he regretted our breakup as soon as he'd landed at JFK. So I kept my own regret from that night to myself and taken him back. A month in and we'd moved to New York for the year where he modelled and I miraculously landed a very small Broadway part. When we moved back, he'd given me the promise ring. That was last night. Malia messaged me this morning to tell me the gang was in town and we were meeting up again. I didn't realise Conor would be there too. Our conversations had fizzled out once he realised I’d moved to New York with my boyfriend.

"Y/N's settling down," Anth teases. "Y/B/N is making a wife out of you!"

"It's not an engagement ring guys!" I insist but it sounds false even to me. It was supposed to be one. But the look of horror on my face when my boyfriend got on one knee at the beach had him stuttering and then insisting it was just a promise ring. So I had accepted like the coward I was because I was too scared to be on my own again. Three years of our relationship and Anth was right-I was settling.

"That's a big ass diamond," Conor jokes but it has a sharp edge to it. "Good for you. So uh-I'm getting a drink."

When I track Conor down, away from the group, he's stony faced.

"It's been a while." I say, feeling like that first night we met when I didn't know how to talk to him.

"Yeah," his eyes flick down to my hand. "A lot's happened it seems."

"Con-" I try.

"I'm alright." Conor cuts me off.

"No. You're not." I call him out.

He clenches his jaw, glancing at me and then sighing. "I know we fucked up Y/N but why did we just stop talking? You're bloody engaged and why am I only finding out now? I've never even met your boyfriend!"

"It-I know-it's complicated. We...complicated things!"

"It shouldn't be complicated! It was just sex!" Conor shouts. "It wasn't complicated! I'm still your friend!"

"Right..." I look down and try to blink away the sudden tears. That all it was to him? "Right. Yeah of course...obviously-duh! It was! I just got...I was unsure! I didn't know what you thought about it. But I'm cool if you are. We're still friends?"

"Yes we're still fucking friends!" Conor is instantly a ball of sunshine as we slip off our past like an oversized, stuffy jacket. I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers, trying to toss out the confused emotions I was feeling. Conor squeezes my hand and I snap out of my thoughts to his smiling face and when he looks at me it feels like that night, I first saw him smiling under sodium lights. When we wouldn't even know this was how we would turn out. I wish I could go back then. Maybe tell Y/N to keep things simple.

As his mouth moves to tell me something, I can’t focus as my head buzzes with the words he'd said earlier. But maybe it's better this way, I think. I didn't want to end up hating Conor, or be hurt by him, when I cared for him this much. I would just have to see it his way, I decide. Just sex. Only friends. "-always your friend."

One Year Later: "Happy birthday!" I shout at Conor. He was in LA for his 24th and the party was massive. Like this-many-people-could-never-fit-in-my-house massive. "Look at you! You're so spoiled now!"

Conor crushes me against him-it had been a good six months since I'd seen him. I was travelling all over for a movie I'd gotten a small role in and barely had time to see friends let alone Conor. I missed his energy. And he was super famous now too. Somewhere between seeing him last on New Year's, breaking up with my boyfriend and moving out, auditioning like crazy, and finding a role-Conor had blown up online and my heart swelled every time I saw his ad or his music somewhere. Despite our messy mishap, I'd realigned myself to realise Conor and I could only ever be friends.

"I love your jumper," I say-the term an inside joke by now.

"This is actually a hoodie." Conor teases.

"Fuck I can never get the terminology right!" I laugh and wrap my arms around him again, his "hoodie" a snug fabric to rest my head on.

"Y/N." Conor says seriously so I look at him again, concerned. "Y/N I-I think I'm finally good!" Conor shouts in my ear and when I give him a questioning look he explains. "My music! I think it's finally good enough!"

"Oh Conor," I can't help but grab his face between my hands and squish his cheeks. "It was always good enough!"

Conor laughs causing his face between my hands to morph oddly so I let go. "You're not as much of a bitch as you used to be!"

"Watch your mouth!" I pull his hood over his head and continue tugging it over his face until he apologizes between laughter. When I let go, he takes off the hood and wraps his arm around my shoulder. We stay that way for the rest of the night as he introduces me to everyone we meet. They all assume I'm his girlfriend, joking with me that I should watch out. And I didn't blame them with the way Conor's hand was always on my shoulder or my waist, my hips, touching my hair, leaning in to say something in my ear. I crave his touch every time I don't have it and by the end of the night, I feel drunk on desire more than any of the cocktails I'd had. So when Conor looks at me with a question in his eyes at the end of the night, I don’t call him out. I simply take his hand and go back home with him. Just sex. Only friends. Always friends.

Eighteen Months Later: Since Conor's 24th, we'd made a routine. Unless one of us were in a relationship, every time Conor was in LA, he would stop by. We'd catch up on life and then end up in bed for however long he was here for.

"I'm only in LA for two week." He would say. Or "I go to New York next week." Or "I have a flight on Thursday for Dubai."

It wasn't permanent, he meant to remind me. It wasn't a relationship. It was just sex. And we were just friends. And this was just a bad habit. Or a good habit-was there such a thing? I always looked forward to it. It felt like we were each other's safe space, a secret the other held close to their chest. Minus the emotional attachments of course. It happened so often like this that I'd forgotten I ever wanted more. Being like this actually gave us more time to catch up on every detail of each other’s lives. We opened up about our insecurities, our goals, and all our shared memories. When Conor was staying longer he would work on things in the same room I was in or he would help me practice lines and we created small bubbles in time where everything was blissful between us as long as we were together. It was harder some days than others like when I wanted to kiss him in public or gush to my friends about him-but it was worth it to be close again.

Months Later: I had my first anxiety attack that morning. I didn't even realise I was having it until my knees hit the carpet and I tried to look up at the time.

I had a big audition that afternoon for a children's movie. My agent was so sure I was going to get it-she'd talked me up to every friend she had in high places and knew the company hiring so I knew I had it in the bag yet a movie on such a scale was terrifying. Conor had told me he was coming over after auditions to see how it went and I was oddly nervous to see him too-I'd gotten out of a short relationship so it had been a while since Conor and I got together. And then my mom called me worried about my brother who'd been making all the wrong choices in life as of of late which kept running through my mind. So when my agent called to tell me they wanted a Skype interview now, I knew that usually meant it was a courtesy interview and they didn't actually want me. I did the interview with a really bad connection, my anxiety heightening with every scene looking at their impassive expressions. As soon as it ended, I ignored my agen't phone call and suddenly found it hard to breath, my vision narrowing as everything looked off, and the room tilted around me. I fell to my knees and located my phone, calling the only person I knew who'd understand: Conor.

By the time he arrived, I had managed to calm down but I still couldn't take a deep breath nor could I talk in full sentences. Conor squeezed my hands and helped ground me until I could focus and then he'd gathered me in his arms so carefully, so lovingly, that it scared me enough to start crying. He mistook this for being sad about not getting the part and helped me to bed, setting up his laptop beside me. I didn't correct him, falling asleep as I felt exhausted, and awakening to a vibrating hum.

I don't open my eyes, anxiety clutching my chest as I remembered where I was and what had happened. But the humming beside me helped, the dread slowly unravelling it's hold on me. When I do open my eyes Conor's concentrated on the screen as he hums the same few lines again and again. And the tenderness with which I felt towards him sends me tipping into the panic zone so I get up and yank the covers off. I couldn't do this. We said we wouldn't.

"Hey you're up," Conor looks at me. "I'm gonna hum something does it sound like something you've already heard or is it-"

"You have to go." I say abruptly and he stops talking immediately. "I need to be alone Conor please go. Now."

He stays for a heartbeat before closing his screen and getting out of bed. His mouth opens to say something but he looks at me and closes it, bowing his head and moving out the door. I listen as he leaves and take a deep ragged breath. I felt wild, like a frantic ball of confused energy was buzzing within me like a pinball machine. Like a panic attack hangover and as soon as Conor goes I want him back. I make it so far to the front door when I retreat until my back hits the wall. What was I doing? But I craved the comfort of his touch and it urged me to call him back. I couldn’t though. He wasn’t my boyfriend, I couldn’t keep doing this. But the sudden sound of a knock at the door echos my pounding heartbeat.

I carefully open it to Conor, running his fingers through his hair. I barely register what he says; opening the door wider, just wanting him back in. He drops his bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him. In an instant, his hand finds my waist, our foreheads touch, our eyes locked. It felt like we were the center of a volcano of passion and desire, boiling as his hand tightens on my waist, bubbling as my hand slips around the the base of his neck, simmering and leaking as I close my eyes and he crashes his lips into mine.

I can't remember what happens next-not chronologically. We're bumping into walls and shedding the day, as well as our clothes, and as we ease into the sheets the volcano bursts with hot molten lava, destroying anything that was ever left of us before.

I must have nodded off again right after because I wake to Conor in bed facing me. Behind him, my window shows streaks of pinks in the sky as day goes down to dusk. Conor's eyes are watching me carefully, his expression unreadable as he watches me watch him. I trace the bridge of his nose to distract him but he continues staring, something budding in the way he looks at me. It was scaring me and I tell him so.

Yet Conor doesn’t take his eyes off of me, his thumb brushing my cheek and my breath catches as I realise why I was so scared. His eyes hold no trace of its usual playful spark. Instead they're unguarded and clear as day with what he was thinking. Shit. This was it. This was the end. We'd both fallen. Made this something important.

"When are you leaving LA?" I ask, almost begging him to reply with a deadline to our romance for some sort of normalcy. The only way this worked was when he put a time stamp for us to stop waking up in each other's arms. Even if it was one month or one week we would have the most fun as the end date was our safety net.

But when he shrugs and continues to gaze at me, my heart feels like it would burst from my chest. And it practically does as all the hopes I ever ignored of Conor and I as something more than friends, all the fantasies I ever had of Conor wanting more with me, the thoughts I suppressed before they could even manifest-shoving them into a dark corner of my mind-roll forward and flash before me. This was Conor-the first person I think I ever fell in love with. And I can admit it to myself now, looking at him-at us, like this. This was Conor-how could I have ever thought we could be anything but in love in the end? So I remove Conor's hand from my face and hold it to my chest, willingly showing him how much I was feeling in the moment. "I feel it now, can you feel it too?" Conor takes my other hand with his free hand and places it against his own palpitations. My own races faster; was this our demise?

"I feel it too." Conor answers slowly.

"But this is exactly what we said we wouldn't do." I remind him. What he said we wouldn't do. What we weren't.

"What was that exactly?" Conor asks me and his mouth flicks up in a slow smile as the playfulness returns in the blink of an eye. He's weightless as he rolls over me and brings his lips down in a kiss so tender, I never realised he had it in him. When he moves away, he rests his forehead against mine, his lips a hair's breadth away from my own. The look he gives me is a challenge, a dare like we would give when we were younger. His brown eyes looking into mine are daring me just one simple thing:

Call me out.

#conor maynard #conor maynard imagine #conor maynard imagines #youtube imagines #fic #lyrics #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #sarah close #jack maynard #joe sugg #i know this jumps all over the place but i really wanted to write something like this #hope its easy to understand #i spent so long on this #ahhhh #thatcherjoe

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horrible-monstrosity · 7 years

Text

bois we’re back wif som more trigger triggerage with little witch witchamalafuckula!!

11 Akko fails at repair magic, news at eleven So why is she trying to repair a large heavy statue with multiple broken pieces, and not something smaller and simpler, if she's supposed to not even have the bare basics down yet? The reason she failed at this five million times is because it's too high level for her. This is sad to watch. - blatant telegraphing that usula is chariop engaged i like how the crow familiar has a shabby shitty trigger star on it. sums up this show... this studio...

The theme of this episode is "we did this shit already". We've had an episode already where Akko saw that Chariop was a normal to shitty student. why is akko convinced again she was some sort of magical super-hyper prodigy? We've had an episode where Akko went to mystic magic spooky place conveniently located on campus to convince herself she could become Chariop in the future. Akko already learned this lesson about chariot that magical competence won't just magically come to her. GUESS EVERYONE JUST FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT THAT, HUH?

telling akko to work hard for her dreams or whatever shit isn't going to help because that's ALREADY WHAT'S SHE'S FUCKING DOING. Intermittently, sure, but we opened the fucking episode right up with it. It's not her fucking fault her teachers can't teach worth shit. I mean, it's not like hard work is really doing much of anything for her, buuuuuut we'll get to that later.

and i just realised and/or remembered that the arrowhead of the shiny arch arrow is a trigger star aaaaand there's a four-pointed star shine in Usrula/Akko's eyes when it activates. WE. FUCKING. GET. IT. TRIGGER. YOU. MADE. A THING. THAT ONE TIME. Ursula says "she doesn't understand" regarding Akko's inability to magic... implying the problem is a need for a paradigm shift on Akko's part to, uh, master the stick or something. Which is why you know Usru is just enabling Akko to keep on smashing her head against a brick wall instead of doing a single fucking little lick of fucking anything to even most slightly niddly nudge her towards whatever the fuck it is she needs to learn or realise to ~understand~ whatever it is. Your actions do not match your words, woman! then ursu randomly powers up her magic spy window to spy on akko like a fucking creeper. ok why do some of the statues in the pit seem to have wizard beards? there aren't any wizards, or male magicians of any kind, in this show. but these hollow-eyed horrifying hell monster statues seem to have some testosterone flowing aboust them. what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

So the bulk of this episode was about working for your dreams and not letting them just be dreams. In going to the founta- I mean the blue moon sarlacc pit, Akko isn't actually ignoring this, since she's just seeking a vision of the future, not asking to be magically turned in to a competent magician. (which would actually be a pretty interesting character situation if the show was actually handling it properly or, like, handling it at all- she's mature enough to know not to just demand power or expect it for nothing, but still insecure and desperate enough that she turns to a magic seer to tell her she'll succeed...) So already that's a thematic mismatch. But then when she gets there, all of a sudden the tree gost is offering her an immediate path to her future, in exchange for... erasing her past? Where did this come from?? Akko goes on about how her regrets and mistakes are still a part of her, but that's not what this was about! The setup was for Akko to declare she doesn't want to cheat and she'll work properly for her dreams (which she can't actually say because she was already doing that, but they decided to go with this plot anyway), but it randomly turns into her being offered to erase her friends from existence! You'd only do that if she'd been considering or moving towards leaving them behind to become like Chariot! This is just completely fucking incoherent. What shit.

and then akko suddenly turns the wang into an anchor-shaped axe with a pirate sword handle and thEN WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? The mannish tree-person "ghost" turns into a gute gril with antlers and a bunch of incoherent too-deep-4-u flashes on screen. I shouldn't have to freeze-frame your shitty fucking anime to get the foreshadowing or lore or whatever the fuck you're trying to get across with this. fuck OFF And then Akko cries, much as I desire to do after having witnessed this fucking garbo. The end.

12 akko turns into inflation fetish and gets popped. that seems grossy painful usula continues to be a shit teacher who can't even tell akko she's shit and thus enables akko to continue to be shit. good - bootleg halloween because of course it is - then the really old lady witch projects an image of sexy chariot who looks like she's wearing nothing under that cloak and you just can't see because it's in shadows....... OOOOKAY ... Okay, the lil babby mangrove lottery is pretty fucking stellar. I will allow this. Why are the auxilliary cunts so insistent on Akko going up when she says she's terrible with lotteries? I mean, it's pure luck so she literally can't be right about that, but it still makes it seem like it's their fucking fault for ending up sacrifices because they didn't fucking just listen to her. Also, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING SCHOOL PUTTING THEIR FUCKING STUDENTS THROUGH THIS SHIT? -akko totally flashes everyone in the bedroom while they're bitching over the book/orb. ok and then akko gets turned into diana by the magic mirror and you know it's just going to be more of her getting shat on and bitched at over things entirely outside of her control. . ... akko's only skills seem to lie in getting out of awkward situations. And in fucking with Diana's side bitches. No, really, if we take this situation seriously, the amount of bullshitting and japery Akko pulls her would really suit her as an entertainer. Buuut she still stumbles her way into a stupid and personally embarrassing situation anyway. Aaand then, Diana shows up to bitch at her as though she'd done everything on purpose even though she'd just repeatedly gotten dragged into things against her will, about how she's totally a flake who gives up on things because she doesn't want to spend time in disgusting unnecessary ghost intestines... even though she's been doing her damned best and she just doesn’t want to go into the fucking ghost intestines.

i still don't get the focus on the big dipper. it's... the fuckign big dipper. it's a fucking giant spoon. I don't know for sure, but I don't think there's any particular historical or mythical significance to it (unlike say I don't know tHE PLEIADES). It really doesn't inspire any awe. get the fuck over it

then akko goes back to the fountain of polarity despite the previous episode having established that we'd forgot that happened ... the fountain gives her a new spell that Chariop used while shapeshifting, but Akko doesn't use it during the show and just uses the spell she was ""practicing"" before. Does she use it to remove the Grief Seed from the sadwitch, or was that some other spell she just randomly attained in the heat of the moment? I literally can't even fucking remember. If it was this spell, why was Chariop using it to like turn into a centaur and shit? Aww fuck it this shit makes no sense

13 So these episodes seem to be the readaptation of the second ova. The one that made an entertainment event out of children reenacting the equivalent of the jews getting gassed. Now it's children being fed to and subsequently shat out by a blob demon, for the entertainment of the masses, plus those singled out for this will apparently become social outcasts and a laughingstock of their peers if the classes reaction to the lottery result is any indication. Because muh traditionfs. witch culture is really fucked up. why is it like this? I don't know, the writers don't know, fuck you

So this time instead of just bullcharging ahead like always Akoo actually goes to the teacher for advice. and she's actually supportive. i actually like that. ursu might be a shit teacher but she's a good person. Plus, you know, the festival event sucks cock and needs to be not done and at least someone besides Akko sees this. you're right minor bitch, lotte really is just a paperweight (:

Even though Akko's been trying her damnedest, we're *informed* that she's not getting any better. It... really comes off as if the narrative is just set up to shit all over her no matter what. And also makes all her work completely pointless. If doing the same spell over and over again doesn't actually help you git gud at it what the fuck is she doing? Her shapeshifting ability when she's working with Ursa at the begining of whichever episode it was is basically the same as what she does at the festival. She still turns into a balloon when she tries to become an elephant, just this time she does it on purpose. With all the going on about "work for your dreams!!" it sure fucking looks more like Akko needs to stop actually working and just use the shitty skills she has as is. It's just everyone around her who's too fucking retarded to realise this, because they're too addicted to keeping their absolutely shitty fucked-up child-torturing witch culture exactly the same shit as its always been. There was no fucking reason for Akko to spend time up until the last second "practicing" metamorphosis magic. Either that or there was no fucking reason for the show to showcase her shapeshifting skill level as being at that level beforehand. This was all just a massive waste of time with no narrative coherence or value at all. and also she still can't fucking fly? like, at all? jesus christ

The event is staffed by alumni of Luna Nova. LN only has female students, and we've never seen indication males can even have magic. Yet one of the people there is a minister, i.e. male. Okay.

do the students chosen for cleaning duty not have a shot at being moonwitch? even though it's chosen entirely by lottery. I can't imagine the students picked for the sacrifice have much of a chance at being moonwitch either. So these students don't even just get a shitty role in the festival, they get fucked out of their shot at prom queen, all by chance. GOOD FUCKING SCHOOL.

... someone gets rushed away on a stretcher........ even the adults (including the minister, who has a distincly female dub voice despite looking male and being... like, a "minister"... but that purple-haired blob next to xir sure looks and sounds fairly masculine. I give up) are bitching about having to watch this shit. WHO'S ENFORCING THE FUCKING STATUS QUO IN THIS WORLD?????

you know, there's another thing this show could benefit from, actual worldbuilding. there's a whole buncha fucking sbhit piled on about muh dipper bear n shiet, but there's no other comparable entities, just generic shit like water unicorns. Have Diana summon Cygnus or Cetus or Aquarius or fucking something. Oh wait, I know why the Big Dipper thing isn't properly integrated into the show's worldbuilding, it's because it's a fucking ripoff of Houkago no Pleiades for the sake of ripping it off and Trigger are A BUNCH OF FUCKING A HACK WRITERS

look, even the headmistress loves this shit. why was the festival always a dreary shitshow if the fucking headmistress would prefer this? why? why? IT'S CALLED A SEED OF GRIEF, ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME? ... This is fine. This is probably fine. so this whole time sadghost's ghostsads could have been solved with like no fucking effort at all, but instead of raising a single goddamn fucking finger the administration just keeps feeding children to it in front of a live audience for entertainment. FUCK AWF and then akko n ko have to get eaten anyway so what was the point? also has no student who got chosen as sacrifice ever noticed the giant pulsating evil thing in the fucking middle of it?

"it was okay i guess"- sushi borden they were disqualified for breaking the rules, even though they did something way more fucking amazing than the fucking administration of this fucking school ever fucking managed to do and from the sounds of it put on a better show than most of their classmates while they were at it. O KAY.

so, with this episode everything ako ever stood for is validated. entertaining performances are better than absolute fuckijg terrible godawful garbage, not shit things are better than shit things, (IF ONLY TRIGGER THEMSELVES COULD APPLY THIS LESSON TO THE ANIME THEY PRODUCE) so what is this show going to do for the rest of the like remaining half of itself? are they just going to forget any of this ever happened and never build off of it and just keep shitting all over akko for being entirely fucking right because the rest of this fuckong wortld is just a compressed dense soup of absolutely fucking retarded? i'd put my money on thaft

and then suddenly....... cubes. remember when we saw those cubes for one entire frame of animation back in fucksyouville? man that's some good fuckng """""""foreshadowing""""""", no need to weave a coherent narrative that actually fucking builds up to things just FUCKIG SLAM THE SHIT INTO A FLASH FRAME DRUG SEQUENCE IT'S TOO DEEP FOR YOU THE PEROPLE AT TRIGGWR SHURE CAN WRIGHT A FUCKING ANYTHING EVER AND AREN'T COMEPLERETE FUCKING HACK FRAUGDS AT ALL WHO NEED TO FUCKING TAKE A LONG WALK OFF A SHORT PIER NO SIRREE FUCK I HATE TBHIS FUCKING SHIT FUCK FUCKF CUFCF FUCKFI CKUF MLIDHUNZKRYSZLJID BIYTSE3BOIHA6TSEBWO8TJIDBSHLBs&TZ OJE6BSW28 aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

#triggered by trigger

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